I Think My Name Is Ben
by Bouncemess
Summary: While harnessed, Ben had to have some thoughts and feelings on the inside, even if he didn't let them show on the outside. This works as a one shot, but if there is enough feed back, there could be more.
1. Chapter 1

This works as a one shot, but if I get enough feed back, I could go on with it :)

I do not own Falling Skies or the characters. Nor do I profit in any way.

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><p><strong><span>I Think My Name Is Ben<span>**

I think my name is Ben, I'm not sure; I haven't heard it spoken in so long. There's so much that I think I remember from my life before, but I'm not sure any more how much of it is real and how much I've made up. I remember reading books, a lot of books. It seems like such a long time ago, but I'm not sure about time anymore either. I remember a family, I think. Brothers and a Dad, I remember a Mom too, but I try not to think about her so much, it gives me an aching that I can't explain, and then the Skitter keeps me closer, trying to make the aching stop. I can't really let my mind dwell on any of them for long before I'm drawn back to what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm quickly pre-occupied with the task in front of me, walking.

We have been walking for a long time now. I feel the pull on my thoughts, a mental stroke, almost as if someone is trying to join me in my head. I keep my eyes straight ahead and let the walking consume me, for now. The Skitter turns and looks back towards me. They have us all walking in a single file, following the Mechs. I 'm near the middle of the line and he could be looking at any of us, but I can feel him looking at me. It's not like when you have a feeling someone is staring at you and turned to catch them in the act, this is different. He is looking inside, checking to make sure I'm really with them, there, and not wondering back into memories. I do that more than the others, I think. The other kids, some boys, some girls, seem to have no problem letting go of what they were, but I still struggle with it every day, and the Skitter knows that.

We had been collecting scrap metal from the city ruins. I'm not sure how long we've been gathering and carrying. It seems like a long time, but time doesn't seem to register either, it's strange how that feels. I don't remember much about the time in between the harness being put on and then going to work. I know there is time missing. I know my memories are vague and hazy. As each day passes I worry about it a little less, but I still try to find the thoughts I know have been stolen from me. I know they are aware I'm still struggling, and part of me feels bad, I don't want to disappoint them. They are trying to help me though. They don't get angry. When the other kids in my group are ready to move to the next stage, they don't send me with them, they hand me over to a new Skitter, to a new group of kids. It's happened three times now. This time, they have put me with a group who are moving away from the city in search of more metal, materials that they need. I'm not sure how I even know why we are walking, but I do. I know we have to gather more scrap metal and we need to go where there is more of it.

These are things that have never been told to me, but I know it. I also know when any of the other kids are thirsty, or hungry, or tired. I know when the Skitter leading us is worried, or happy or sad about something. I feel for him, I want to keep him happy, he's nice, and I like him. At night, when I'm feeling a longing for the Dad I can barely remember, the Skitter pulls me closer to him and I can feel him in my head. One day my mind wondered onto thoughts of chocolate, and minutes later, the Skitter was walking up to me with a candy bar in his hand. He handed it to me and let me stop working to eat it. I know that I used to think of all Skitters as monsters, but I also know if the Mech had been watching us closer I never would have been given the treat. I know that if the Skitter had been caught handing me a candy bar he would have been punished. He's not a monster; none of the Skitters has been anything but protective and gentle with me, with all of us. I feel connected to the Skitters who have looked out for me.

Again my mind is pulled back into the present, into the task of walking, staying in line. I know I have to stop thinking about so many things; it could get the Skitter staring at me into trouble. If the others knew about it, he would be punished, and the Mech was close enough to pick up on my thoughts and relay them to the others. I concentrate on the line ahead of me, on lifting my feet and moving forward. I'm not tired, though we have been walking for hours. I never get tired anymore. I can work for hours non stop, I can carry heavy loads in my arms that even Hal wouldn't be able to carry. If Hal could see me now, what would he think of me?

Hal, who was Hal? I know Hal, he was an ass most of the time. He didn't like having me around much. A brother, he was one of the brothers I think about. He played sports and he always had a girlfriend. I used to want to be like him, but I couldn't be. I was too uncoordinated, too clumsy. I preferred reading books, and imagining myself as a different person. I was a geek, a nerd, whatever label you might pick, it didn't matter. The girls didn't like guys like me. So I tried to make him suffer, the way I felt I suffered. Deep down I loved him, I know that. But I always did something to piss him off. I am different now. I am stronger than I was before, and I can work for hours without even knowing it. Time is nothing though, no matter what I am doing. Yeah, maybe now Hal would be impressed with what I can do.

Again I'm pulled back to my task, walk. Walk. Walk. I can feel the Skitter in my head, directing me to maneuver around a car in the middle of the roadway. Keep in line, don't stray from the path. There is work to do; we have to reach our destination so we can start scavenging for scrap. It was important, and if we didn't get there on schedule, if we didn't reach our quota in the time allotted, our Skitter would pay the consequences; my Skitter. I had to keep my mind on what I was doing; I didn't want to see anything happen to my Skitter. I'd been with him for a while now, and I was closer to him than the others I'd been with. There was a connection with him that I hadn't been able to make with the others, but I'd made it with him. The connection makes it easier to let go of the memories that continue to burn their way into my thoughts.

I hear a stream to my left. Water sparkling in the sun, glinting at the corner my vision with shimmers of gold draws my attention. I think before I turn towards it though. I can't look. I have to walk. But I let my eyes flick towards the sight, I can't help it. I can see the water; the rocks speckled through it, at the bottom a deep embankment. As we grow closer, we are directed closer to that bank, to walk in the browning grass, away from the obsolete cars lining the blacktop. This will give us a chance to walk in the shade of some trees ahead, out of the heat. I feel that we will stop for water further down stream, since some of us are thirsty. We will all drink.

Closer to the bank it's easier to shift my eyes towards the water, to see it, and try to remember being close to something similar, with fishing poles; listening to Matt complaining that his stomach hurt, Matt, the other brother. I miss Matt and a pang hits my chest. I push it down, ignore it and blank my mind before my Skitter turns to look at me again. I can't let myself think about my brothers, or my Dad. I can't let them into my head. They could be dead for all I know. I had waited for Dad to come for me, at first, but he never did. I half knew it wouldn't happen, though I wished for it. Dad had to fight just to find food, and I couldn't expect my being taken to be a priority. Matt couldn't take care of himself; he had to be looked after. Besides, how could they possibly know where to find me?

I try not to think about the view I was allowing myself to take in, at least not in a way that my Skitter could feel what I was doing. The sound of the water and the feel of the whole scene somehow gave me some comfort. Then I see the brown head peeking up over the bank, and the eyes…. I know those eyes. I know the voice that drifts on the wind, barely audible, as I pass so close. I look straight ahead now, trying to ignore the sound, "Ben?" I can hear it, a name. A name that feels familiar, one I've tried to hold onto for so long but am close to losing. What if I'm imagining it? What if I'm finally starting to lose touch with reality? Not that my reality in the past months could be considered normal. No one's reality is normal anymore.

Hal's head ducks down again just as my Skitter turns back to look at me. I look at him, directly at his eyes, and I know that he knows. He should do something now. He should stop us all and go after the person hiding along the tall bank, but instead he gives me the look of understanding, and I know that the presence of one person hiding down the bank does not matter to him. He knows that I will remain with my line, I will walk on, and I will do what is expected of me. No one will follow; no one will come after me. My time for rescue is long past.

Still I wait, as the distance between me and my brother grows. I want to hear him yelling for me, running after me. But then I remember, Hal never liked me much anyway; and Dad isn't with him, he's probably with Matt somewhere, protecting him. It's just me. It's up to me to survive on my own. It's up to me to adjust, adapt. That's what my Skitter wants me to do. He wants me to be happy with him, he wants me to feel like a part of his family; I am a part of his family. I just need to let go of a life that can never be brought back. I have to accept that. Its just fact and it's illogical to hope for something that can never happen.

Still, as I walk in time with the other kids, staring straight ahead, concentrating on the work that lies ahead, I strain to listen for the sound of that name again, the name that I have already forgotten in just the past few moments, however faint it may be. It never comes.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm sorry I haven't responded to them, it's been a crazy week. But I do appreciate them all!

(Legal stuff) Do not own, make no money!

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><p><strong><span>I Don't Like Heights<span>**

"Ben!" The voice echoes in my head as I'm pulled out of the dream. Ben. I think that's my name. I curl up close to my Skitter, shivering from the confusion and fear that's biting at my gut. I'm sure it was a nightmare, and waking up to the pitch black of the strange room where we have been sleeping the past few nights only intensifies the confusion. I don't remember much from the nightmare now, I know my Skitter seen what I was dreaming. He seen it and came inside my head to stop it. His legs have embraced the other kids, but his arms are holding me close to him, one clawed hand resting on the back of my head. Faded pictures of people that I feel I should know hide behind the fog in my brain. My Skitter pets at my head, and I feel him willing me to close my eyes and go back to sleep. Calm envelopes me like a blanket; I feel safe lying so close to my Skitter, and I welcome the control my Skitter holds over me at that moment. He will make it better. I used to depend on someone else to take away nightmares and ease my fears, I know I did, but I can't quite grasp that memory. I close my eyes and try not to connect with the one face from my nightmare that is still lingering in my thoughts. The features are hazy, but I remember a beard, and a voice that seemed to be calling for me. What had he called me? Ben, I think. Ben. That seems so familiar. I've heard that name recently, I'm sure, but I can't remember when. It's a name that seems to keep coming into my head, a name my Skitter is trying to drive out. My thoughts fade as my Skitter slips into my consciousness and wills me back to sleep. No more dreams, not tonight. I'm going to sleep deeply until morning and then I won't have time to think about it; I know that as I lose awareness of everything around me.

I feel a pull in my head that brings me out of sleep as the dim morning light peeking through the windows starts to etch shadows on the walls, the nightmare a lost memory, for the most part. We all stand as soon as our eyes open, knowing we are going to eat before we go to fill our quota for the day. We walk from our room to the hall, where we line up and kneel on the floor. We are given a treat this morning, cereal. There's no milk, and most of it is kind of stale, but the Skitters dump the contents of various boxes on the floor and let us all eat our fill. I think of Froot Loops, and though I'm not really sure what they are I wish that I had some now, but the granola bits and wheat flakes that I manage to scoop up off the floor are filling, and it's better than what we had last night before bed. I eat my handful of cereal and then wait until we are directed to fall into line.

I'm walking through the halls, eyes straight ahead; I barely notice the painting on the walls, until I see a cow jumping over a moon. _'The little boy laughed to see such a sight'_. I'm not sure where the thought came from, but the voice from my dream echoes in my brain, saying those words. I would smile at the thought, but that's a concept that is lost on me somehow. I used to smile. I try to ignore the rhyme that is now running through my brain, and the voice that is speaking it. The morning light is faint, the sun isn't up, but there's enough light to see where we are stepping. If we can't see, the Skitter will direct us around obstacles, like the cars in the street, or the piece of wall that was blasted from a nearby building at some time in the past; pieces of brick, and shingles blown from houses by devastating blasts. I'm trying to remember what caused the blasts, but it's as vague as the face of the man from my dream. I shouldn't be thinking about the dream. I know that, and as the Mech meets up with us on the street, my Skitter turn to me, a warning buzzes through my brain and I force my thoughts to blank out on me.

I don't like heights, I'm not afraid, I just don't like being that far off the ground, but as we move through the deserted streets I understand that I'm going to be up high today. I'm going to be far from the ground. I'm going to be on a roof and I'm going to be there all day. I can't think about it or I'll get sick. Not that I can get sick anymore, but I'll feel sick and I'll wish I could get sick. I focus on the thunder under my feet that vibrates through the black top with every step the Mechs take. There are three of them with us today. We never know how many will be watching over us, waiting for…. I'm not sure what they are waiting for. I think I used to know, but if I did, it's no longer important enough for me to remember. There is never anything but metal and concrete, and silence. There is no talking, no music, and no sounds of car engines; no lawn mowers or teapots whistling. There is only the clicking of the Skitters and the ground shaking like an earthquake under the weight of the Mechs as they move forward.

I'm on the roof collecting the sheets of aluminum other kids have stripped from ventilation shafts sticking out of the roof. I don't remember how I got from the street to the roof; it's gone from my mind. I hear my Skitter in my head telling me to work fast, so that we can move on to the next building. It's not so much words; it's more like a feeling that swallows me up. We are behind, and we need to catch up or there will be no afternoon feeding. I move to the edge of the roof to drop the awkward load that fills my arms. I let the load fall just as the shimmer of a reflection flashes across my line of sight. I ignore it, turn around and go back for the next armload. I'm moving steadily, but none of us can really move quickly. I make sure not to look down each time I get back to the edge.

Three more loads and I can go back to the street to help the other kids collect what has been dropped from the roof, and I'm thankful that I'm going to be going down. I reach the edge of the roof, and once again the flash hits my eyes. My Skitter isn't close, I can't feel him. I let my eyes flick across the view in front of me and my stomach starts to spin when I see how far up I really am. A picture flashes through my brain of being on a ride, off the ground, laughing, despite the nausea that grips me. It's a quick flash and doesn't last long, but it's followed by another flash, I'm leaning forward, throwing up on Hal. Hal is my brother. I remember him. And a man leans over me asking me if I'm okay. The voice is familiar and I try to remember who it belongs to as it starts to recite the nursery rhyme I remember from that morning.

Dad, it has to be Dad. I can't make out the details; it's too far away, but the face, the beard, the shape of the hair and the jacket, it all looks so familiar. Wait; what I'm seeing isn't in my head. It's on the roof across from me. It's a group of people, I'm not sure how many, but I see the vague form from my dream, looking my direction. Next to the form is another one that looks familiar and I'm sure that one was watching me from a stream at some time; it's Hal, I threw up on him and then I laughed about it, I can remember that. It all runs through my mind, mixing together, confusing, and it feels like I'm watching them for a long time, but I know it's only been a split second as my body involuntarily turns to go back for another load. I feel my Skitter screaming at me, and then I hear a Mech moving around below. Moments pass and then the sound of the Mech gun blasting fills the air. We all drop to lay on the roof, directed by the Skitter. We stay on our stomachs until the blasting from the guns stop, waiting for instructions. What are we supposed to do? Stand, move to the door that takes us to the stairs. Stay in line. The day is over, there will be no more work, at least for my group. We will go back and rest for the remainder of the day. I don't understand; we are behind and we have to catch up, how can we rest for half the day? Not everyone will rest, some of us will work, but it will be back at the building with the cow jumping over the moon. I won't be one of the workers; my Skitter has to fix what is wrong with me, somehow. This is becoming a problem.

I don't want to go back, but my feet keep moving forward. As I reach the street I think about running, despite the Mech and my Skitter that are staying close to me; but I stay in line and keep pace with the rest of my group, I can't control what I do. They know. They know I seen people on the roof, and they know that I recognized them. I know that they didn't catch them, I know that they weren't alerted to them when I seen them. Something fell from that other roof and gave away their location. I can feel those facts seeping into my mind. I will not be working for a while; I have to be kept away from the others or I might contaminate them.

"Ben, are you okay?" The voice is clear in my head, and I know who it belongs to. My mind focuses on him and the face comes out of the fog. Dad; and the picture in my head is of him helping Hal wipe my puke off of his shirt. Moments afterwards, Hal is covered in fresh vomit that seems to have fired straight from Matt like a projectile. We laugh, all of us except Hal. I feel an arm wrap around me and I look up to see who it is, but the sun is in my eyes. For a split second I see a woman, her sunglasses propped on her head, but then, as we pass under some trees the vision is morphed and distorted and I see my Skitter. He's going to make it better.

Ben, I have to hold onto that name no matter what. My name is Ben.


	3. Chapter 3

Please let me know what you think ,( I need feedback) :D

Still do not own, still make no money

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><p><strong><span>I Wanted To Be Like Harry Potter<span>**

I wanted to be like Harry Potter. I wanted to look like him, to be able to do all of the amazing things that he could do. I wanted to fight evil and have awesome friends. Harry Potter was kind of a geek, like me, and that made it easier to be me. I know it doesn't make sense. I know Harry wasn't real, but if Harry could win and belong somewhere in the end, then I could too, right? It was just easy to relate to Harry Potter on so many levels. Besides, it was one of the few things that I got to do with my Dad. He'd read the books while I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself being Harry. He always told me we were only going to read one chapter, but it usually turned into two, sometimes three. Mom would get upset because I would be up past my bedtime and then Dad would have to make it up to her by promising to be the parent to tackle that struggle of waking me the next morning. It never happened though. Mom always woke me, and threatened to pour ice water over my head if I didn't lift if off of the pillow.

I feel the urge to laugh at that thought. I'm sitting on the floor in a small room at the moment. My Skitter is sitting opposite of me, staring at me. I'm not allowed to leave the room, and I'm not supposed to be thinking about the family that I used to have. I'm supposed to be opening my mind to my Skitter, letting him teach me how wonderful my new life can be. I want to open my mind, I want to do what he's mentally guiding me to do, but it's difficult. I keep falling back to the memories in my head of a family that I once yearned to fit in with.

I've been here, in this room with my Skitter for a long time now. I'm not sure what a day is any more, but my Skitter has let me know that I have been in this room for longer than two days. Time is irrelevant though, I haven't noticed it passing. I've been submerged in my Skitter's consciousness, feeling what he feels and seeing what he's seen, at least as much of it as he wants to share. I can't help but think that there is so much he hasn't let me feel and know. He has delved into my own mind, taking what was there and shifting it, moving it around and rearranging it so that it made more sense to me.

He has let me see the woman laying dead in the grass, the one that I called Mom so long ago, and he took the memory and folded it up, sealing it away somewhere safe where I couldn't reach it and it couldn't haunt me. He found the images of the man who used to read Harry Potter and opened them up further so that I could see them with more clarity. Flashes of that man walking away, leaving me to take care of myself started to take over. He was showing me the truth. Whenever the older brother, Hal, wanted his time, Dad would leave the book and me behind, disappearing into shadows. When the younger sibling, Matt came close, again the book would vanish. I would stand back, watching as Dad turned his attention to his other sons, the sons who fit in more, the son who could throw a perfect spiral and the son who lived to ride his rip-stick. The sons who could do anything physically without looking like fools. He would leave Harry Potter, and me behind. He had always said that he loved all of his sons, and he had always told me that I was perfect the way I was, I was more like him than the other two and he looked forward to sharing his books with me and talking about history, and school, but he hadn't meant it. Whenever the choice was laid out in front of him, me or them, he always chose them.

He didn't choose me when it really counted. He didn't come for me when I was caught by the Skitters. I'd been so sure he would come, but he didn't. My brain fights against that thought, against the reality that was being implanted deep inside it. I can't remember why, but I'm sure I can remember seeing my Dad, from a distance, watching me. I tell myself that he's coming for me; he's trying to get to me. I'm holding onto that, holding onto vague images of sitting with my Dad, laughing at Hal because he has tripped over his own feet and landed on his ass in middle of the floor.

Then a new picture flashes into my head. The Skitters and Mechs, the kids working at a new building, and there is an explosion, gun fire and Mech fire. One of the kids from another group is grabbed by a man, and taken. I can feel the thoughts of the boy being taken, he's screaming for help in his mind, begging his Skitter to keep him safe. I can feel his fear, feel his confusion and I want to help him. I want to keep him safe, with us, ease his fears. My heart wrenches when I see flashes of Tom Mason, my father, fighting to free this other boy, and I realize then that he was never coming for me. He didn't care what was happening with me, he was trying to free someone else. I know this is all happening now, while we sit there in this room.

My Skitter moves across the floor, slow and quiet. He stops in front of me, and reaches out, resting one of his hands on my shoulder, I can feel him comforting me, telling me with his thoughts that he cares, he would never leave me behind, he's been trying to help me, trying to make me see that my life before was a lie, and that I didn't really fit in with the people I called family. I fit in with him though; I fit in with my group. I work hard and he appreciates all that I do for him. He loves me. He won't ever abandon me the way my other family did. He will protect me and make sure that I never want for anything. I will never be hungry or thirsty and anything that I need he will make sure I have. He will never let me hurt in anyway. With him I am a part of a real family, I fit in and belong. No one will make fun of me for being smart. I am special because I know more than most of the other kids. I have a knowledge that others don't, and that makes me special. I know about our people, and how they think and fight and how they used to live. They need to know that and I have already given them so much just by being with them. I love and understand numbers, and they need someone who can move on to work that will involve that. I love science and they can teach me so much more than I could ever imagine. I'm going to count for something; I'm going to be important, just like Harry Potter. I am going to fight for my new family and protect them, just as Harry would. I just have to let go of things that are no longer important and forget the pain that I felt before. They will take care of me just like they have been. My Skitter cares and he will always be there for me, unlike the father that I can barely remember.

I feel my resistance caving in. I want to belong somewhere. I want someone, anyone to care about me. I don't want to feel like this anymore. It seems I always hope for something and then it never comes. I just want to belong to someone. Here I belong. Here I matter. My Skitter pulls me closer and I can feel him stroking my brain, my thoughts, smoothing out the flaws and easing my fears. It's not physical, it's all inside. The aching that I've been fighting in my chest seems to subside and I no longer care about what the past had to offer, I only care about what my future and my Skitter can give me. What can I do to make my life better without counting on someone else? I can live it the best I can, make my new family proud of me. It won't be as hard as it was in the past, where my older brother made fun of me because I was so different from him. The brothers and sisters I have now want me to be happy, and they will support me and help me along the way. I know that and I welcome it and I wonder why I fought against it for so long.

I'm ready to move on, and that means I have to prove to them all that I'm really a part of them now. I can see the short confrontation that took place at the work site. I know that there were two fighters left behind and I know I am going there now, to prove that I am truly one of them now. I have to collect a new member of our family and show that I can do that without hesitation, without opening up to the old life that will forever be buried behind the walls that are going up in my mind. I have to face my past and walk away from it. That's what this is, a test to see if I can do that.

My Skitter moves away and I stand with little encouragement from him. I want to do this. I want to prove to him that I am willing to be his, fully, completely. It's time. I walk behind him, through the empty halls, past gurneys and metal racks full of food that has spoiled long ago. We make our way out of the building, where a Mech is waiting for us, to guard us as we travel the streets. It seems the sun is low in the sky, but I'm not worried about the dark. My Skitter will lead me and direct me, just as he always does. I can hear thousands of voices all at once in my head. Encouragement, cheers of congratulations for finally seeing the right path to follow. Some of the voices are the other kids, but most of them are the Skitters, and the others, the ones that really matter, the ones who have chosen me for something important, although I'm not sure what it is. One thing sticks in my mind; I get to be special, like Harry Potter.

It's dark when we arrive. I fall into line with the other kids from my group, and I wait as I am instructed to. I can see the two bodies lying in the rubble; the girl is going to be one of us. She's going to be a new sister. I know the boy, he's older than me. I block the emotions that go with his memory; I block the details of who he used to be, just as my Skitter has been teaching me to do in that room over the past couple of days. I don't care about the boy. I don't want to care about him. I want to prove that I'm really part of my new family.

When the boy from my past starts to stir, I'm directed to walk out to the two bodies lying in the street full of debris, side by side with one of my new brothers. As we approach, the boy starts to moan and move a little more. I lean over and grab hold of the girl's arm, around the shoulder. The boy looks at me, and I stare at him. I study his face, he looks scared, and I almost feel sorry for him. I know how he is feeling right now, he's afraid of what is going to happen to him. I know he's going to be okay, that is something that is promised to me by the thousands of voices speaking to me at once. He is going to walk away, unharmed, to deliver news, important news.

I start pulling the girl, the boy beside me is following the same instructions, so we both move her back, away from the danger the boy might pose to her. He might harm her if we linger near him too long. He probably would never hurt her on purpose, but he has no idea what consequences his actions can bring. He's about to find out though. I almost feel sorry for him, looking weak and helpless, laying there in front of me, saying a name that no longer has any meaning to me, begging me with his eyes to stop, to leave the girl with him, don't hurt her. I can see all of that in his eyes and I almost give into the urge to drop her arm. He may look weak, but he can be deceiving, I can feel that warning tingle through my body, right down to the nerves in my toes. I remember I have to prove something to the family that needs me, the family that I belong to now. I don't let go of the girl. I help drag the limp form across the street, into the shadows, where a very important family member is waiting. He reaches out and rests his hand on top of my head. I can feel him reach back to my harness and then my whole back tingles. He releases me and then mentally pushes me away from him.

I fall back into my line while a Skitter leads a broken group around the building, to stand in front of the boy, who is now standing in the street. I can see the faces on the kids. They used to be a complete unit, but one is missing. One had been taken and they will never be whole again. They all feel the pain, the loss of one of their brothers. I feel their pain and loss, but I know it will end soon. They will be free of it, and once they are, the rest of us will be free of it as well. They cannot function now, their line has been broken.

I know that if my former hopes had been met, then my group would have been suffering the same fate, the same pain. I feel a pang of guilt for wanting to leave, for risking my family's security and unity. The source of the guilt isn't from inside though, it's being shown to me and transferred to me from somewhere else. I don't look away from what is taking place on the street; I'm not allowed to look away. This is my warning, a promise of what will happen if I slide back into old habits. I can't forget this.

The Mech gun starts to hum, the boy in the street is yelling, he seems to be in agony over what is taking place in front of him. I want to yell as well, but I don't have that control. I can't do what I want to do; I don't have to do what I want to do. There is no reason to react to what is happening, it won't change the fact that it is happening, and it won't fix what is wrong.

I feel each and every bullet that slices through the group of kids. I can feel the life draining from then as their blood spills onto the concrete and blacktop. I can feel their relief as they are finally free of the pain they have been feeling. Pain from losing their brother, or pain from another source, I can't tell. I can't react to the feelings overwhelming me; I can't grab hold of the parts of my body that feel like they have been cut through and burned by Mech bullets.

I watch in silence as the bodies land in heaps and the Mech gun winds down, everything falling still and quiet. I can feel my Skitter weeping inside, and I reach out to him, hoping to comfort him. I forget about the fighter in the street, he isn't important to me anymore. The Mechs mentally gather the attention of the rest of us, Skitters and kids, and lead us away. I'm still trying to comfort my Skitter, feeling that he's seen the same scene play out in front of him too many times to count, dead children laying in the streets, and that it's tearing him up inside, emotions that he is trying to hold in so that the Mechs don't sense them; these kind of emotions aren't acceptable. I try to let him know that it wasn't his fault. The people who stole the boy, they are the ones to blame; they should never have tried to tear apart out family. We've all had to adjust and now that we are starting to feel happy no one has the right to destroy the bonds we are forming. He welcomes my contact and I can feel his whispers moving through my brain, telling me that he never wants to see anything like this happen to his children, he would die before he let them hurt any of us. And then he strokes my still raw nerves with a soothing that I can't describe and tells me that I am going to be special. I get to be like Harry Potter. I think that I like the name Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are the best :) This is the last chapter, but I do have more ideas rolling around in my head.

Do not own, make no money.

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><p><strong><span>Dad?<span>**

It's been days since the fighters took the boy from the other group, but no one thinks about it. We get up early, work all day and return to sleep when the sun drops from the sky. The air has been getting colder, but the temperature doesn't bother any of us. We no longer have dry cereal from boxes to feast on in the mornings but we eat whatever the Skitters give us. There have been a lot of beans and rice and leafy greens for every feeding, tonight is no exception.

The building we stay in is a hospital; that much I have come to comprehend. I don't know when I came to the realization, or even if I figured it out on my own or the knowledge was given to me by my Skitter, but once it occurred to me that's where we are, it made sense. I think the wing where we sleep is what used to be the nursery, but I'm not sure. I used to sneak peeks at the walls, but I stopped doing that after the boy was stolen from us. I stopped doing a lot of things, but I'm not sure I can remember what it was I stopped doing exactly. I've stopped longing for things that I could never have. I've stopped yearning for the comfort of what I used to know and I've welcomed the acceptance of what is new.

My Skitter is very proud of me and I feel good about that. He always makes time for me, at some point during the day, to let me join with his thoughts. I know that we're going to be leaving soon. One group left today while my group stayed to finish up some of the work. I'm going to be here for a few more days. My Skitter is leaving tonight though, going ahead to prepare things because I'll be going to the home base while the rest of my group moves on to a new area to continue gathering the steel and aluminum scraps. I've been there before, I think, but that was a long time ago and I don't really remember much about it. I'm sure that's where I received my harness. This time will be different. My Skitter will meet up with us to take me with him, once we are near the city. He will bring my replacement, so that the circle isn't broken, and the group will be whole.

I'm anxious to finally be going where I'll belong. I won't feel so empty inside and I'll be able to do something that matters. My Skitter will stay with me, while the rest of the group goes on with another Skitter, to another place, to keep working. I'm glad he will be with me; I don't want to be separated from him now, even for just a couple of days. He's the first Skitter that I've let myself open up to, the first one that I felt that connection with, and I don't want to lose it. I want to continue to make him proud and keep him happy. He knows this and has told me too many times to count that I am doing a good job and that I make him proud every day.

I don't like that he has to leave tonight to go ahead and get things ready for me. I don't want him to go; I have a nagging, digging sensation right at the base of my skull, close to where my harness ends. It's like an electrical current buzzing at my brain, telling me that I will never see this Skitter again and it pulls at my chest with an odd emotion I'm sure I'm not supposed to be feeling. Am I sad? I'm not sure anymore what sad is supposed to feel like. He has let me know that I won't be alone, that I'll be looked after well, and he promises that he won't sever our connection. He'll be waiting for me when I get there, and everything will be okay.

I know I'll be looked after; the Mechs have been keeping a closer eye on us all since the incident. Their patrols are more frequent and they keep their lights directed at the hospital at night more than they used to. Still, I can't shake that feeling of doom that seems to thicken the air around me. I want to go with him, but that's not possible. I want him to stay with us, but he has no choice, he must do what he is told, just as I must do as I'm told.

He waits until after I've eaten my fill of beans and rice off the floor where they're feeding us before directing me to the other side of the room where there is more quiet and calm. He's saying goodbye to me, it's time for him to leave with one of the Mechs. He assures me that I will be okay, and tells me he expects me to do as I'm told while he is gone, and warns me not to fall into old habits. The old habits are vague memories to me. I don't remember with much clarity what exactly I did that wasn't acceptable, so when I promise him that I won't disappoint him I am as sincere as I can be. I only have one purpose, and that is to keep my Skitter happy and proud. He knows I'm being honest with him. He knows I don't really know what he's talking about, I know he knows because he knows everything about me. He knows more about me than I do actually, and that gives me an odd sense of security.

Another Skitter moves towards us and I understand this is the new keeper, the babysitter so to speak, until I meet up with my Skitter back home, where I'll do something special, though I'm not sure what that something is. I don't care what it is, I only care that I'll get to do something important, and I'll belong. I watch my Skitter move away, though a door and I keep my mind connected to him as he makes his way out of the hospital, down the drive and towards the road.

I can feel the new Skitter easing into my thoughts, sending me affection and assurance that it's okay, I'll be reunited with my own keeper soon enough. I have to remember that they love me and want me to be happy. They will keep a special eye on me and I'll be kept safer than I've ever been in my life. They know I need to be watched closer. That's why this Skitter is here, he's experienced with protecting those who are in the most danger.

I don't understand what he means, but I don't question it. I don't doubt him, but that nagging feeling returns as I lose the closeness I had felt with my Skitter. I can still feel him, but he's moving too far away for real contact. I can hear him in my head, but it's faint and it will remain faint, barely heard, until I see him again. I follow the Skitter back to the other side of the room where the rest of my group has finished eating. Buckets of water have been lined up along the wall so that we can drink and wash. We all move to them in a single line and do just that. The water doesn't remove all of the dirt, but enough that we feel a little better, more comfortable for sleeping.

The new Skitter leads us out of the room, into the hall, and towards one of the rooms where we sleep. I fall into the end of the line, that's where he wants me. He wants me back in case there is some kind of problem. I don't know what problem there could be. We are safe here, that's what we've all been told. We are with family and nothing can get to us, the fighters can't get to us to steal us away or hurt us. Why do I feel dread and doom building up inside of me while we make our through the dark halls? Why is the pit of my stomach turning to ice? I shouldn't be feeling these emotions, I'm beyond those feelings. They are irrelevant and I don't care about them, at least I'm not supposed to care. The new Skitter doesn't feel what I'm feeling, he isn't like my own Skitter and he isn't tuned into me. His attention is on another boy, the one in the yellow shirt. The boy is going to bond with the new Skitter, just as I've bonded with my Skitter, I can feel that desire in both of them. Part of me feels neglected, left behind somehow, but somewhere deep in my head I can feel my own Skitter trying to ease my tensions. He's too far away to be able to help much but he is trying. I hang onto that as a presence steps in behind me.

I know someone is behind me, but I pay little mind to it. I should be alarmed, part of me screams out at me to turn and look, but I can't do that. Eyes straight ahead, pay attention to the Skitter, listen to his directions. We enter the room and one by one we are directed to lie down, just as we have every night, form the circle, the protective ring that will hold us all together through the night. Make use of each other's body heat, rest our heads on each other to protect us from the cold hardness of the tile floors. One of the harnessed hangs back next to the door while we take our places, and the Skitter looks at him, wondering how he had missed seeing this one before. I can feel the Skitter's acceptance of what is to come. I don't understand it, but he seems to expect something to happen soon that will be important. He is blocking me from making a good enough connection now; I'm unable to fully understand. The kid by the door finally moves in to join us and lies down, but the circle is complete and he's outside of it. Everything inside of me screams out that this isn't right, but I can't dwell on it for long. I close my eyes and welcome the comfort of the Skitter holding us all together, safe and secure in our own world. The room grows silent and the Skitter starts to drift off to sleep, opening up my mind for my own Skitter to reach out to me.

He's holding onto me, embracing my thoughts and soothing my nerves. I let my body relax and start to fall into the abyss of peaceful sleep. Sleep cleanses my mind and regenerates the harness so that I will have the strength and energy for the following day. I can hear the Skitter lying over me purr quietly as his mind drifts through the minds of the other kids in my group. Someone in the circle moves a little and the rest of us adjust to compensate for the change. I can feel my mind starting to turn numb and try to lose myself in my Skitter's mental embrace from so far away. "Click" I hear the soft, muted sound close to me. Movement from the space above my head spurs me to open my eyes and the reflection of light from something close catches my attention. I raise my head and turn it to see what it is.

Hal looks back at me, alarm in his eyes and a blade in his hand. I know him, he's my brother. I threw up on him and then laughed about it. I used to wish I could be like him. He's not supposed to be here. Seeing him seems to spark a fuse in my brain, burning through flashes of recent memory that has been missing. Hal peeking out over the top of a steep bank, watching me from the stream, saying my name.; Hal standing next to Dad on the roof of a building, watching me through binoculars; Hal lying in the ruins of the street next to a girl, unconscious and still. Hal begging me with his eyes not drag the girl away. Hal screaming as if he was in agony as a line of harnessed kids are gunned down in front of him. I sense that my Skitter is the one releasing my memories, giving them back to me after keeping them safe for so long, but I don't want them, I don't want this.

They took the other boy, they weren't here for me; they left me behind, why is he here now? Why is he looking at me as if what I do might matter for something to him? They came back for me? My mind screams out in fear as I realize I'm about to lose everything that has been promised to me. My Skitter isn't here to protect me or show me what to do; I have only the baby sitter and I feel lost with him. Panic rises inside of me as the flashes of memory hit me with such a speed that I can't keep up with it all. Dad reading to me, Matt maneuvering down the driveway on his rip-stick, Mom laughing at a joke I've told her, Hal looking me in the eye and smiling. The words "Math Geek," dripping from his crappy grin as if he were being funny. In that instant, that micro second that it takes all of this to process in my mind, I remember the familiar yearning to see my father, my little brother and my mother, and the recognition and desire to reach out to my brother sends alarms to the Skitter nesting above me, enough to bring him out of his sleep.

It all happens so fast that it's like a dream. The thought processes that take over now aren't mine, my desires are pushed away and a thousand different minds meld together with mine. Protect the Skitter. Hal thrusts the blade straight into the Skitter's mouth, the Skitter is fighting back, screeching and the rest of my group is coming fully awake to follow the orders screaming in all of our heads. Protect the Skitter. I do as the others do, grab for Hal and try to pull him back, I try to save my new family, I need to protect my home, I'm finally where I belong, where am not laughed at and made fun of. I'm special here. I don't want to lose what I have.

I realize, even as I pull at my brother, that these aren't my own thoughts, they are the thoughts of the Skitter fighting for his life and the thoughts of the other minds that are in my head, controlling me. Still I fight against my brother, until the fight moves away from my group across the floor and I can no longer reach him. I can feel the pain the Skitter is feeling, the anger, and the fear he's emanating is so strong I can almost taste it in the air around me. I watch the struggle; watch my brother fall to the floor and from nowhere an arrow strikes the Skitter, pulling his attention from Hal. I don't follow his gaze, but I can see through his eyes what he sees. Tom Mason, my father. I see him without looking and I think that I should have known that my father would be close by. He's never far from Hal it seems.

The fight continues, and I watch as Hal shoves his knife into the Skitter's mouth again and throws him down to the floor, I feel the pain and I want to cry out. As the Skitter's life drains from his body I hear him thanking Hal in his mind for ending it quickly for him, for releasing him from the hell in which he's been imprisoned. I don't understand it, how he can he be glad to be dying? How can he thank my brother for ending the perfect life that had been laid out for all of us? I want to scream at Hal that I hate him for taking the away the best thing that had ever happened to me, but at the same time, on the inside, I feel as relieved as the Skitter.

The room falls quiet, finally, and I can do nothing but stare at the dead Skitter, lying on the floor in front of us all. I reach for him, just as the others do, mourning his loss, wishing he would wake up so he can protect us. I cry out to my Skitter, try to make him see what is happening to all of us, but he's gone, I can't feel him. I can't feel anyone except the other kids in my group. I feel their confusion and sorrow, and I don't know what to do.

I barely comprehend the movement and soft voices in the room. Human voices that are so out of place that I can't understand the words being spoken. I'm stroking at the dead Skitter when a hand grabs hold of my jaw, pulling my view away, directing it towards the owner of the hand. My Dad says something to me, but I don't understand the words, I have no idea what he's telling me. Only one word sounds familiar, and only because I'm sure I've heard it recently. "Ben." That one word sticks in my brain, almost burns through my skull.

He pulls me back, away from the Skitter, towards a window where other hands are waiting to pull me through. I want to fight against them, I want to go back to the room and wait for someone to come and tell me what to do, but I don't know how to do that. The basic functions that I used to have are gone, the instincts are there, but my body can't decipher the meaning of my thoughts and carry them out. It's used to being under someone else's control; it made life easy and safe.

We are out of the building, moving quickly away from the hospital, away from the temporary home I'd become so familiar with. My legs feel shaky, but Hal is holding my arm, pulling me and guiding me along side him. I have no choice but to move. The adults and Hal speak back and forth to each other, but again, I can't grasp the meaning of their words. The one word I would know isn't spoken. We are all rushed around the corner of the building as the ground trembles under the weight of a Mech coming close. My mind screams out, trying to draw the attention of the guard, but it seems the connection is broken. I realize without a Skitter close to us, the Mechs can't read us or sense us. That's knowledge that I had before, but I tend to forget a lot of what I know when it's mostly irrelevant to the task set in front of me.

My mind drifts in the black night. There is no moon shining above us, the clouds have muted the light, making everything feel quiet and still, except for our footsteps as we make our way through an alleyway, towards a wooded area. Hal seems to have relaxed next to me. His hold on my arm eases off, but his arms snakes around me. "Ben, are you in there?" He asks the question quietly. "Just hold on, it will be over soon, I promise." I keep my gaze straight ahead. That word again, Ben.

My Dad is on the other side of me, guiding one of the other kids. "Ben?" He reaches out with one hand and let it rest on my shoulder, he says more. Still I keep my eyes straight ahead. I try to process the word. Ben. I think my name is Ben. My arms hang limp at my side, too heavy to lift, and I feel as if each step is harder to take. I feel my heart starting to race, and it almost hurts to breathe, as if I'm drowning. I don't know what is wrong with me. My back starts to ache; the harness starts to feel heavy. I don't know how long we have been walking, it feels like it's been barely a minutes, but as always time is lost on me. We are approaching a building; people are coming out to meet us. Dad and Hal guide me through a door and then everything turns blurry and vague before complete black takes over. I can hear what's going on around me, at least some of it. I can feel my body being moved for me, and a prick in my left arm. Too many voices to keep up with are shooting through the air. I feel air pushing through my nose, cold and dry, but it seems to ease the feeling of suffocating.

A hand cups at the back of my head and I can hear Dad's voice. "Hang in there Ben; it's Dad." I feel him taking hold of my hand. Other words buzz in my head at that moment, words that I can understand words that are familiar. I'm theirs, I belong to them, and they will not lose us to the humans. I call out to my Skitter, feeling his connection again, finally. I want him to come for me, but he whispers thoughts into my mind, visions of me hugging my father, and rough housing with Matt, tickling him and taking pleasure in hearing him laugh. My Skitter is showing me memories he's been holding back for me. Memories he's been keeping safe until I was free. He knew my family would be back again, but if I had continued holding onto their presence the others would know and stop them. My Skitter never wanted to be what he is, and he doesn't want any of his kids to live the life that he's been forced to live. He cares about us too much for that. He's letting us all go.

The pain in my back hits with no warning, hot pulses shoot down my spine, from my neck straight down the middle of my back, stabbing all the way into my gut as it moves. I feel almost detached from it; I can feel my mind drifting around it, almost as if it's separate from me. I call out to my Skitter in my mind, asking him to make it stop, but he's gone, and I'm alone in the dark. Silence, stillness surrounds me. At some point I fall off into sleep, and I dream. For the first time since I've had the harness, I dream about a family that I both love and hate. I dream about school, and Harry Potter. Too many images to keep up with flood over me. It's as if it has all stored up in my head over time and now needs to be released.

I hear soft voices, whispers, and they aren't in my head, they are around me. I'm not alone, I feel almost crowded. Something wet and oddly comforting brushes against the skin on my back. The weight of the harness is gone, and that part of my back has been void of any other sensation for so long that the touch of cool water seems foreign. I welcome it, and relish in the ability to feel it and enjoy it. I feel my body relax, the nerves seem less stressed and frayed. I'm free from being held in, held back. It feels good and I like it. I smell the scent of freshly washed linen against my face and it occurs to me that I've not smelled or tasted anything close to this for so long.

I slip into the calmness and into a deeper sleep, but I don't know for how long. No dreams come, but I feel at peace. I'm not sure what wakes me, but my mind struggles to come out of the numbness. I'm not used to waking on my own; I've become accustomed to sleeping deeply until being pulled from my slumber by my Skitter. I feel my eyes blinking a few times before letting them open. I'm lying on my stomach on a cot, in what appears to be a make shift hospital. I can see Hal sitting next to me, Matt sitting on his lap. Both of them looked as if they were sleeping. I raise my head slightly and look at my left arm, draped over the edge of the cot, and see the I.V. line running from a bag hanging on a pole.

I turn my head back towards Hal and Matt and look at them for a moment before closing my eyes again. I draw in a deep breath and try to think about where I am and what exactly has happened. It's foggy, and I'm not sure what I'm feeling. I'm disappointed and angry, but at the same time, I feel as if I'm where I belong. Some how I feel pissed at Hal, but I'm sure I owe him my life. He saved me. He's an ass, but he saved me. He'll probably never let me forget it either. I crack my eyes open and look at him, his head hung down next to Matt's, his eyes closed. "Dumb jock," I mutter the words without even thinking about them.

Hal's head shoots up instantly, his eyes focused on me. "Ben?" His movement and voice brings Matt out of his own slumber, his eyes wide and a hint of a smile on his face. I lie here, staring at them both, amazed that they are here, in front of me, and even more amazed that I know them, and remember them and love them. I've missed them, and somehow I know that they have both missed me.

"Dad," Hal's whispered call sounds almost frantic as he leans forward a bit.

I close my eyes, afraid that if I open them this new reality will vanish. Footsteps coming towards me click against the tile floor. I open my eyes, my brain becoming more aware as it screams at me to look, anticipation for who is approaching quickly taking over. I open my eyes, directing them towards the floor at first, and see a pair of boots next me. I blink a few times to clear my vision and force my head off the pillow to look up. It's him, the one I am most afraid will disappear. He smiles instantly, happy to see me, "Dad?" I'm still not sure; it all feels surreal to me, I'm afraid this is a dream.

He drops into a crouch and reaches for my hand, taking hold of it. I feel something in the touch that I never felt with the Skitters, like an electrical current that tingled up my arm. The sensation you feel when someone who really loves you is near. His smile widens, spreading to his eyes. He's relieved, I can feel it. "Yeah, it's me." He gives my hand a squeeze and nods his head the way he always does when he's excited, quick short nods. "It's me."

I want to reach out to him, beg him to hold onto me, but as I start to think about that, the familiar whispers in my head start buzzing. I pull my gaze away from Dad, rest my chin down on the pillow, and listen to what they are saying to me. They will come back for me. I'm a part of their family now, and when it's time I'll go home, to them. The harness is gone but I'm still theirs. I let out a long breath and try to ignore what they are saying to me. My Skitter wanted me to be free, and I am now. I'm never going back. They lied to me, they played games with me. I know that. I push the whispers of a hundred different minds back, I try to ignore them. I have to concentrate on where I am now, on who I am. My name is Ben Mason.


End file.
